


Hands On Me

by windsthatwhisper



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink if you squint, Sexting, basically Kaner looked good in his tux so I wrote 3k of Jonny debauching him, idk jonny gets feelings over kaner’s hands, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19294870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsthatwhisper/pseuds/windsthatwhisper
Summary: “No matter what happens tonight,” Jonny says, brushing the shoulders of Patrick’s suit, “just know that you’re one of the best damn players out there, I love you, and-” he grips the lapels of Pat’s jacket and tugs him close, “-I’m gonna fuck you stupid the minute you get back.”Alternatively, Jonny follows Patrick to the NHL Awards and fucks him in his suit.





	Hands On Me

**Author's Note:**

> For Diana, who basically co-wrote this with me while we cried over how gorgeous Kaner looked in his tux.

Jonny decides to hop on the plane to Vegas with Patrick despite him not actually attending the awards show.

“One day I’ll take you as my date.” Patrick says, lips pouted as he buttons up his shirt. He looks unfairly, stupidly attractive standing in front of the mirror in nothing but his button down and a pair of tube socks. He should look ridiculous, but his hair is actually decent today and Jonny hates that he’s lost an object to chirp.

“I look forward to it.” Jonny replies, kissing his pout.

Patrick tugs on his pants, tucking his shirt into the waistband, then slides on his belt. Jonny licks his lips at the sight of his ass in the tightly-cut suit pants. “Blue is definitely your color, babe.”

“It brings out my eyes.” Patrick responds immediately, turning to grin at Jonny, tongue poking out between his teeth. His gap tooth is slightly endearing.

Jonny kisses him, hands wandering down Pat’s sides. He squirms a little, ticklish, before laughing as Jonny cops a feel with his big hands. He whacks Jonny on the chest. “Stop it. I have to leave soon.” He shoves Jonny onto the end of the bed, before reaching over to grab his jacket.

He’s in between Jonny’s parted legs, Jonny’s hands on his hips. He cups Jonny’s face and kisses him, slow and sensual, and then loses himself in the feel of it all. Jonny’s more than happy to make out with Patrick, running his hands up and down his back, across his ass, licking into his mouth with a newfound urgency.

They part when Patrick’s alarm goes off, indicating he’s got ten minutes before he has to leave. Jonny sighs, put-out, while Patrick goes to put on his shoes.

“You look good,” Jonny tells him as he’s fixing his cuffs, “Really good.” He eyes Patrick up and down, being obvious about it and not bothering at all to hide his semi in his shorts.

“Obviously.” Patrick grins and does up his bow tie.

Jonny stands, crossing the floor in a few short strides, before stopping in front of him. He straightens the bow tie, pinkie skimming against the collar of Pat’s shirt, against the skin of his neck.

“No matter what happens tonight,” Jonny says, brushing the shoulders of Patrick’s suit, “just know that you’re one of the best damn players out there, I love you, and-” he grips the lapels of Pat’s jacket and tugs him close, “-I’m gonna fuck you stupid the minute you get back.”

Patrick shudders beneath Jonny’s fingers. “Unfair.” He whines as Jonny pulls back, adjusting his suit as if nothing happened.

Jonny just flashes him a smile. “Better hurry or you’ll be late.”

-

 

Things are fine at the start of the show. He cheers for Pettersson when he wins the Calder — he’s always proud of whatever rookie wins, because he remembers that feeling — and tries not to be too disappointed when Kucherov beats him for the Ted Lindsay.

 _Ur better than him anyway,_ Jonny texts him in the middle of Kucherov’s speech.

 _Thx bb,_ he sends back.

He figures that’ll be the last he hears from Jonny during the awards, because Jonny’s super big on ceremony etiquette and whatnot, but a couple minutes later, he feels his phone buzz again. He waits until he knows the cameras are off him to pull out his phone. There’s a string of messages.

_You look so damn hot._

_God look at you. You’re fuckin mine. Woah._

_Wanna bend you over the damn table and fuck you till you can’t breathe._

Patrick goes hot at the words. He glances around nervously before shooting off a quick, _Now is not the time!!_

He feels like he’s got his message across, but alas, they’ve gone to commercial break when Jonny texts back, _It’s your own fault. I could have given you a handjob before you left, but no._

Patrick heaves a strangled, disgruntled groan, then promptly blushes in embarrassment when the people around him glance at him in confusion.

They’re back from commercial and Patrick doesn’t respond. He sits patiently through the next videos and awards, flashes a quick glance and a smile to the camera when it zooms in on him as it passes. His phone buzzes with a new message.

_I’m gonna put that mouth of yours to work for me later baby._

Patrick shifts discreetly in his seat, adjusting himself as he goes.

_You look beautiful btw_

Patrick is blush-y and flustered and horribly turned on, but he grins harder at the cameras and purposefully sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he’s clapping for whoever just won whatever the next award is.

 _That stubble makes your jaw even more defined,_ is the next message to appear, _gonna mark it up good._

Patrick scratches at his jaw even more, just for that.

 _Can’t wait to feel that stubble on my thighs. I’m already getting hard just thinking about it._ Then, _are you hard, baby?_

Patrick is, in fact, very hard. It doesn’t help that he’s in the front row on the edge, with nowhere to hide. He’s onscreen for just a moment, enough to shoot a betrayed look to the camera — to Jonny — before firing off a text when the camera’s gone.

_U can’t do that asshole. I’m in PUBLIC._

Jonny just types back, _Gonna put that tongue to work._

Once again, Patrick decides it’s best to ignore him. His leg has taken on a mind of its own and has been bouncing anxiously for the past nominee listing and commercial break.

He thinks they’re about three-fourths of the way through when he gets another message. He waits until the cameras are focused on Keenan to open it, and-

There’s a _dick_ on his phone.

Jonny sent him a snapshot of his dick, hard and leaking in his fist, followed by, _hurry back._

He immediately drops his phone, catching the attention of a few people around him. Patrick fires off a series of text messages, ranging from random letters to _THERE ARW PEOPLE AROUNd ME YOU CANT._

Jonny just sends back a bunch of winking emojis.

 _I’ll deal with you later,_ he sends and slams his phone into his pocket.

The rest of the show passes smoothly. He doesn’t receive anymore texts from Jonny, but he’s left achingly hard in his suit pants and barely any chance to adjust himself without anyone noticing.

But then finally, the show wraps up, and Patrick flees the scene and practically throws himself into his car, avoiding the media and any kind of camera at all costs.

He sits in his car as traffic out of the parking lot thickens and then dwindles, trying to get ahold of himself. He shoots off a quick _‘omw’_ to Jonny, just as a heads up, before replying to the few family and friends who texted him condolences on the Ted Lindsay getting snatched.

 _I’ll get em next year,_ he sends to Jackie, before putting his car into drive and hightailing it out of the parking lot.

He throws the door open once he gets back to the hotel room to find Jonny lying on the bed, idly flipping through channels on the tv in nothing but his boxers. His hard-on is obvious through the material.

He slams the door shut. “You little shit.”

Jonny turns to greet him with a lazy grin. Patrick sheds his suit jacket and tosses it somewhere on the floor. Then, he kicks off his shoes, takes his socks with them, and undoes his belt in three quick moves.

Jonny sits up against the pillows and frowns a little, “Hey, wait-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Patrick swears, pops open the top three buttons of his shirt, and tosses a leg over Jonny’s lap so he’s straddling him, fully clothed against almost nude.

“God, baby, look at you,” Jonny groans, peppering kisses up and down Patrick’s neck, “So damn gorgeous in your tux. Let me take it off for you.”

“After the way you got me all wound up tonight?” Patrick scoffs, rolling his hips down against Jonny’s and reveling in the groan he lets out, “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’re lucky I don’t put you in the corner and watch me get myself off.”

Jonny whines a little at the thought. “C’mon, babe, you wouldn’t do me dirty like that.” His hands wander down to grab Pat’s ass through his suit pants, flesh and fabric spilling from between his fingers.

Patrick pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? You wanna test out that theory?”

Jonny starts unbuttoning Patrick’s shirt the rest of the way. “Don’t be like that. You just looked so damn good in that suit.”

But Patrick pulls away. “Well, you know what? I think I like the idea of making you watch. Lay back against the pillows, eyes on me.”

Jonny watches with wide eyes as Patrick gets off his lap and lies down next to him. He’s still got on his shirt, tucked into his slacks that are tented at his crotch.

“Grew the stubble out for you,” is the first thing he says, and then puts his big hand right on his dick through his suit pants and heaves out a groan, “Oh shit, that feels good.”

Jonny stares at him, mouth gaping, “Pat-”

Patrick moans, airy, as his hand starts to move up and down against the palm of his hand, then in circles with the heel, digging hard enough to put pressure and friction but not enough to hurt. Jonny reaches out to him, but Patrick slaps his hand away and hisses, “Touch me and you get nothing.”

Jonny’s hands retreat back into his lap, fisting his boxers desperately. Patrick grins, and it’s quickly turned wobbly as he speeds up his hand.

“Oh God, Jonny you drove me insane all night,” he tells him, “Got me all worked up. See this? See what you’ve done?” He cups himself from the bottom, then peers up at Jonny through his lashes, a look he perfected ten years ago and has always drove Jonny mad.

True to form, Jonny’s eyes go dark and his boxers get even tighter. “You’re a-”

Patrick cuts him off with a moan, this time louder and more supported, as he circles his thumb over the head and his fingers dip down to rub against his balls. He bends his knees and splits his legs, stretching the fabric over his dick even more to provide a skin-tight feel and even more friction. He whines, palm flattening over his dick, rubbing faster.

“Enough.” Jonny growls, and suddenly has Patrick pinned to the bed, hands at his head as he hovers over him. “You’ve had your fun. But _I’m_ in charge, here. Don’t forget.”

Patrick swallows with an audible _click,_ and Jonny knows he’s got him. “Gonna fuck you in your suit, Peeks.”

Patrick gives a strangled groan when Jonny bats his hand away and cups his dick through his pants with his own hand. He rocks up against it, straining his neck upwards to kiss his boyfriend, hot and demanding. Jonny meets him there, giving it back just as rough.

“While I’d love to make you come in your pants like I did when we were twenty,” Jonny breathes against his lips, “I have an agenda here.” He rolls his hips down against Patrick’s. “Bend over the bed.”

Patrick waggles his eyebrows unattractively, “Yeah baby.”

But he does as he’s told, climbs off of the mattress and folds himself over the end of the bed. Jonny slips off the bed and grabs the lube from the bedside table where he’d stashed it once Pat had left for the awards.

“Been a while since I fucked you over something,” he says conversationally, reaching around to thumb open the button on Pat’s slacks.

“We got old,” Patrick snorts.

“I can see the PornHub title now: ‘thirty year old gets dicked down by guy with huge ass’.”

Patrick can’t help but giggle, which makes Jonny chuckle too. And this- this is why they work so well together. It’s easy. It’s always been easy between them (despite all the yelling, but hey, that’s part of the magic.)

Jonny yanks down Patrick’s pants, but only far enough to settle right beneath the swell of his ass, cock and balls spilling out the front over the waistband. “Do you have any idea,” he says, voice getting deeper as he gets more turned on, “how ridiculously hot you looked today? All the things I want to do to you…”

He squirts lube onto his fingers before pushing one all the way down to his knuckle. Patrick’s used to that, despite how long it’s been, so it doesn’t take long for Jonny to start working him open on two, scissoring and searching for that little spot that lights Patrick up like a Christmas tree.

“I’m still mad at you,” Patrick pants into the duvet, “Sending me all that shit when you knew I couldn’t do anything about it. Fucking tease.”

“You know it.” Jonny grins and shoves a third finger alongside the other two. He curls them a couple times, and Patrick shouts, groaning into the blankets.

“Jonny, c’mon,” Patrick begs, gasping at the assault on his prostate, “Just fucking fuck me already.”

The fingers disappear from inside him, but he hears Jonny stumbling out of his underwear, before the hands return, clean and dry, to rest against his hips. “Re-”

“If you ask if I’m ready, I’m going to strangle you with my bow tie.”

“Hot.” Jonny says, and pushes home.

Patrick moans brokenly as Jonny’s head breaches his rim. He closes his eyes at the feel of the rest of him pushing in, until Jonny’s thighs are flush with his ass. It’s not long before Patrick’s begging, “Fuck, please, move,” which gets Jonny on a move on.

He pulls out and fucks back in, setting a fast pace early on. He moans up at the ceiling, fingers digging into Patrick’s hips. His skin’s probably red from where it’s rubbing against the material of Patrick’s pants, but he pays little mind to it in favor of fucking Patrick into oblivion.

“Shouldn’t even- _ah._ Shouldn’t even let you do this,” Patrick gasps, “Don’t deserve my ass.”

“I was the one who suggested the tailor that made the suit.” Jonny points out, voice breathless around the edges. _“Shit,_ yeah you feel so good, baby.”

Patrick whines and spreads his legs a little wider. “What happened to- to wanting my stubble on the inside of your thighs?”

Jonny’s silent for a moment, too occupied with nailing Patrick into the mattress. “I’ll get that later.”

Patrick doesn’t have the brain cells to respond; they’ve all gone and flown out the window because Jonny’s suddenly shifting and hammering his prostate with every thrust. Patrick arches into the feeling and shoves himself back on Jonny’s dick with a loud moan.

“Oh God,” Pat cries and squeezes his eyes shut as Jonny reaches around and starts fisting his dick in time with his thrusts.

“Your hair looked good today,” Jonny breathes, slamming into Pat doubletime, “So fuckin pretty, Pat, you know that? None of the others looked as breathtaking as you did.”

Patrick scrambles to unbutton the rest of his shirt. It’s so hot; _it’s so hot_ all of a sudden. He struggles to get it off, and despite his fantasy of fucking Patrick with his suit on, Jonny helps him get it off. The pants and boxer briefs come after, until they’re both naked and hurtling towards their orgasms.

“Jonny-” Patrick chokes, a moan spilling from his lips when Jonny grinds inside slower this time, cockhead pressing deliciously against his prostate.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, Peeks,” Jonny says, voice an octave deeper than when they started, “You’re gonna come on my dick, and then I’m gonna come in your hand.”

Patrick makes a curious little sound, so Jonny explains, “I kept seeing pictures of you- your hands. Your veins. God, baby, you’ve got the softest hands, but they’re so big. So perfect.”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Patrick curses and comes with a groan, dropping his head down between his shoulders. Jonny grunts like it’s been punched out of him, and Patrick watches his dick spurt hard onto the floor.

Jonny pulls out quickly and wipes his dick mostly free of all the lube — because he’s not sure Patrick really wants to put his hand on lube that’s been in his ass.

Patrick straightens enough to pull Jonny onto the bed on his back. He draws out the moment by ghosting the tips of his fingers across Jonny’s muscled thighs, over the sensitive insides of them and right across his asscrack.

“Kaner…” Jonny pleads, dropping his legs open, and Patrick takes pity. He wraps his hand around Jonny’s dick and tugs, and Jonny’s hips shoot off the bed. Patrick grins, leans down to kiss Jonny’s knee, and starts pulling, tight and fast but loose enough that his callouses catch on the foreskin.

Jonny slings an arm over his eyes, overwhelmed at the sight of Patrick’s big hand wrapped around his dick.

“C’mon, Jonny,” Patrick whispers against his thigh, nipping, before sucking a large bruise into the skin there, “Let go for me.”

Jonny’s breathing stutters, and he comes when Patrick’s thumb starts poking around at his hole. Patrick jerks him through the aftershocks and a little bit after, loving how Jonny jerks and jolts at the oversensitivity. They don’t do it often, but Patrick loves the way Jonny’s eyes always go wide when Patrick doesn’t let off, when he gets faster or tighter or rougher.

He won’t try to milk another one out of him tonight, though, so he drops Jonny’s dick and lets it fall against his abdomen. Jonny’s abs unclench in relief.

Patrick takes off his watch, sets it on the table, and curls up next to Jonny against their mound of pillows.

“I meant what I said,” Jonny brings up a few minutes into their silence, “You really did look gorgeous tonight.”

Patrick blushes. “Thank you. I- I had a feeling I wasn’t going to win. Compared to Kucherov, I definitely wasn’t placing first. But, I wanted to look nice anyway. Like I deserved to be up there.”

“You do,” Jonny tells him, earnest, pressing a soft kiss to Patrick’s forehead, then smushes his face into his curls, “I meant what _I_ said, that you’re one of the best damn players out there. You deserve that award just as much as Kucherov. And-” he pauses for dramatic affect, “-you were way better dressed than Kucherov, which automatically makes you better.”

Patrick can’t help but laugh, stuffing his face into Jonny’s neck. “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point.” He kisses Jonny’s collarbone in thanks, and then gets distracted by sucking hickeys along his neck. “I’m gonna wake you up tomorrow with a blowjob, and then you’re taking me for pancakes at that weird gluten-free breakfast place you found.”

Jonny really liked the idea of fucking Patrick right through the mattress and onto the floor tomorrow morning, but he’ll never turn down head from the one and only Patrick Kane and his dumb oral fixation.

“Sure, baby.” Jonny says, patting Patrick’s ass and titling his neck back so Pat’s got more room to work, “Whatever you say.”


End file.
